


In the Still of the Night

by graysonsen



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Sex Worker AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 03:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7084585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graysonsen/pseuds/graysonsen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezekiel works the streets, Jenkins is a client. Sex worker AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Still of the Night

Ezekiel sniffs the night air, exhaling as he shifts from one foot to another. The weather's okay tonight, the sky clear, and some of the other boys mill about, smoking and talking in low voices. Cars circle the block, slowing down as they pass, the drivers studying the boys with cold, appraising stares.

Ezekiel's got his eye on one in particular, a station wagon with old-style wood grain panelling down the sides that's been round a few times now, braking to a crawl every time it goes by him. He puts one hand on his hip as it approaches again, sticking out his ass a little. Nothing too showy, because he likes to keep it subtle, but enough.

The car comes to a stop beside him, and Ezekiel checks out the driver. He's tall, an older man with gray hair, kind of classy-looking, the type Ezekiel might find vaguely hot in other circumstances. "Looking for a date?" he says.

He can see the guy swallow nervously before he asks, "How much?"

 _First-timer,_ Ezekiel thinks, certain of it, and quotes him double what he'd normally charge.

The man doesn't question the price, agreeing on a blowjob, and Ezekiel slides into the passenger seat. "Just go up around the corner there," he tells the guy, and he follows Ezekiel's directions, pulling into a quiet, dark alley.

He kills the engine, unfastening his seatbelt and then handing Ezekiel the money, not meeting his eyes. Ezekiel doesn't need to count it to know it's the correct amount, and he tucks it into the pocket of his jeans.

"Move your seat back," Ezekiel says, and the man looks at him blankly for a second before understanding. He fumbles in front of him, sliding the driver's seat far enough back that there's sufficient space between himself and the steering wheel.

Ezekiel leans over, starting to unbuckle the guy's belt. "Wait," he says suddenly, grabbing Ezekiel's hands, stopping him, pushing him away. "Can we just... talk first?" 

Ezekiel sighs impatiently. Guys like this are usually the worst, wanting him to act like he's interested while they tell him all about how their families don't appreciate them, what bitches their wives are. "Conversation's extra," he snaps.

"I don't mind paying more," the man replies, taking out his wallet. He offers Ezekiel a bundle of notes, the expression on his face so genuniely, pathetically hopeful that even Ezekiel has a pang of sympathy.

He shakes his head, knowing that tomorrow he'll regret this, turning down that much cash. "Go home to your wife," he says.

"I don't have a wife," the man replies. He looks at Ezekiel, lost and sad, his loneliness almost tangible, the depth of it hanging like something endless and heavy in the air.

Ezekiel smiles, trying to be kind. "Then just go home," he says. He opens the door, climbing out of the car, before reaching into his pocket, offering the man his money back.

"Keep it," he says.

"Thanks." Ezekiel nods, slamming the car door shut. 

He turns away, walking off into the night, not looking back.


End file.
